It’s just ludicrious enough to be true, but Eve’s Apple reports that she got an email from Columbus Christians For Life stating that Hurricane Katrina satellite image looks like 6-week fetus. Along the lines of Jerry Falwell, they go on to list the states with the most abortion clinics and the retribution that God broughteth uponst them(eth)
Baby-murder state # 1 – California (125 abortion centers) – land of earthquakes, forest fires, and mudslides
Baby-murder state # 2 – New York (78 abortion centers) – 9-11 Ground Zero
Baby-murder state # 3 – Florida (73 abortion centers) – Hurricanes Bonnie, Charley, Frances, Ivan, Jeanne in 2004; and now, Hurricane Katrina in 2005
Meanwhile, Gawker reports that even though hundreds died and tens of thousands of people have no homes, food or water party people will not let the
terrorists weather win. They will drink, dance, strip and fuck until this whole thing blows over…so to speak.
Why does the most of the world hate the US? I haven’t a clue.
Not content with 24/7 coverage of the misery of Katrina, CNN’s Gary Tuchman filed a segment where he helps a teenager sift through the shattered remains of what was once her childhood home. Walking back from his mission of mercy, St. Gary and the girl run into her grandmother who tearfully exclaims, “Bless you! Bless people like you!”
Well, fuck you, Gary Tuchman and fuck you, too, CNN. Since when did journalistic ethics allow for a reporter to not only drive the story but to become the focus of it? Since when did self-aggrandizement become “objective reporting”? I think it’s great that Gary wants to help out. I hope that he after he files his reports he trudges through the shit filled water finding other po’ folk to help. But to film your saintly self doing acts of charity for the purpose of ratings fills me with unspeakable rage. Shame on CNN for sanctioning and broadcasting this masturbation of almost necrophiliac proportions. It’s nothing but pure emotional pornography.
David Mattingly spent several days in New Orleans filing the most horrific reports cooly and calmly. One can imagine him feeling guilty as he took a hot shower and changed into clean clothes. The smirk on Gary Tuchman’s face showed no guilt at all, only pure pleasure at the prospect of another day when some poor, distraught Mississippian whose life got washed away by a broken levee tells him how great he is.
I’m back from vacation and did nothing productive the entire time, unless you consider mini-golf and kayaking in some god-forsaken North Carolina swamp productive. I read two Dashell Hammett novels (The Dain Curse and The Maltese Falcon) and a fabulous book about Al-Jezeera. And we swam, swam, swam. Except for a possibly torn rotator cuff (a gift from the Atlantic Ocean on the day before we left) I’ve never had a more relaxed vacation. Details to follow but for the moment…
We got back to Boston around 5pm yesterday. I tried to help unpack the car but with my right arm pretty much out of service, my wife insisted that I just lie down somewhere. I grumbled and pouted. “Look, if you’ve got to do something, go around the corner and get some sparkling water,” she told me.
The Greek that runs the little store hailed me enthusiastically. “AIII! You back! You – AIII! Look at you! You so DARK!! How you get so dark!?”
I tan easily so seven days in the sun left me pretty brown-ish. I love this guy. He runs a truly neighborhood store. When we moved there, he didn’t carry the New York Times so we asked if he might start carrying the Sunday Times. A few weeks later – he started carrying the Times. PLUS, he gives us the center section (Magazine, Book Review, Arts) on Friday when he gets it.
This afternoon, since the fridge is still pretty bare, I ran around the corner for (ironically) mayonnaise. Again, he’s bowled over by my deep lusterous tan, joyfully exclaiming, “AIII! What happen to you!? You even darker than yesterday! You more blacker than nigger!”
Out of someone else’s mouth, it might have sounded racist, but from him, it sounded cute as a button.
He apologized profusely as I left.
I don’t know if the beach house we’re renting even has internet access and, in some ways, I hope that it doesn’t. I’m ready to hang out at the beach and the hell with the rest of the world.
Especially the fucking board.Best…threat…ever
You know what, give me your address so I can drive my Harley with the xtra loud Rhinehart pipes around your house at like two in the morning
“…at like”??? What are you, a fucking tweenage girl? Are you allowed to ride a Harley if you say things like “at like”?
As a father, sometimes I find it best to use fictional stories to illustrate real-life outcomes. Just such an opportunity presented itself this evening when my daughter asked me if I would get her dessert.
“Mmmmmaybe,” I answered, opening my eyes from the briefest and lightest of after-dinner dozes.
“If you don’t give me my desert now,” she threatened, “then…then…then I’ll give you a belly fart.”
Calmy surveying her through my half-open eyes, I said, “I think that someone needs to learn the inadvisibility of threatening those who have the things you desire.”
And so I told her this story to illustrate.
Once there was a girl that wanted a pretty pink party dress.
“If you don’t give me that pretty pink party dress,” she snarled at the shop owner, “I’ll burn down your store.”
“Go ahead,” said the owner.
So she burned down the store and the pretty pink party dress burned with it. She was arrested for arson and spent the rest of her life in prison.
The owner recieved a large settlement from the insurance company and lived happily ever after.
She considered the story and then gave me a belly fart anyway. She is now up for adoption. Please direct inquiries through the proper channels.
Oh, it’s a strange, strange world where a deacon of church calmly and invisibly goes about his days as a serial killer; where priests and children’s party clowns abuse kids and where opening an email from a friend that say “I love you” infects your computer with a virus.
Through the looking glass and down the rabbit hole you tumble until you reach the point where you’re stomping on little bunnies’ heads because 20/20 did a piece asking if rabbits might be used by Al Qaeda in their next, unspecified attack.
You get so used to things not being what they seem that you’re unwilling to give anybody the benefit of the doubt, prefering to stick with the facts in front of you rather than question how the facts became facts. If you enter a room and see someone standing over a body with a gun and that body contains a bullet hole, you might make some assumptions. Maybe the assumptions are correct, but maybe, just maybe, the facts don’t match the reality. In a perfect world, everyone tells the truth and you really ARE interested in buying cheap Viagra and welcome the solicitations. In a perfect world, people visit your website/blog/whatever because they appreciate your point of view rather than opportunistically gaming the system in hopes of gaining some quick cash.
Sadly, that’s not the case.
This past weekend I watched my bandwidth slip stealthily away and, despite my best efforts, could do nothing about it. Yesterday, some scumbag ate through 1.67GB of it. I had a pretty good idea of the culprit, but I was right and wrong. It’s probable that the scumbag used an honest website to front for the spamming. Still, the actual facts of where the attack came from remain in place. Did I act rashly? Yes. Did I act without cause? No. In a world where born-agains believe that Jesus wants them to kill abortion doctors, grandmothers sell herion and www.ilovejesusmorethananything.com turns out to be a porn site, it’s tough not to believe the facts in front of you no matter how upstanding a person appears to be on paper.
So, if I walk into your house and see a bunch of knives, blood and rope on the floor, you’ll forgive me if I’m skeptical that you can explain it satifactorily. That’s not to say that I shouldn’t first listen to your explanation before dropping a dime on you.
Anybody who gets this via RSS should disregard the previous post. I’ll write up the reasons later, but I’m keeping it strictly offline. All I can say is – HOO BOY!
Feel free to email me hbeeinc at gmail dot com
Watch at your own risk. (Via Crooks and Liars)
And on a similar note, the worst song parody ever written – http://greatscat.blogspot.com/2005/08/dancing-boobs-katherine-harris-song.html (Don’t ask me why b2evo won’t allow the hyperlink. It’s 2am and I’m not gonna figure it out)
I’ve taken the liberty of putting my parody where my mouth is.
Campaign time and the bright lights glow
Couple pillows of silicone
Gonna run for office
Got to look your best
You need a real big chest
Neo-cons are all getting off
Hannity drools while Colmes just scoffs
Jesus, look at those hooters
Bouncing up and down
K. Harris comes to town
And she will never frown
She is the Titty Queen
Double-D, looking seventeen
Titty Queen, Double D
Though you’re fifty-three (oh, yeah)
The right wing cause
All the way through menopause (ooh, ooh, ooh)
Dig it, the Titty Queen
For the love of God, clean up the navigation of Podcasting in iTunes!!
1) Click on Podcast and wait for awhile
2) Click the scroll bar to get to the categories and wait awhile
3) Click the category and wait awhile
4) Choose one (but ONLY one) podcast to subscribe to
5) Watch as the screen switches to the download screen
Want another podcast? Repeat steps 1-5. Keep a waste basket by your computer for the hair you tear out.
D? Am I missing a trick here?
David Swanson at Daily Kos reports that Cindy Sheehan might get arrested as a threat to national security.
Cindy wants to ask bush exactly what her son died for in Iraq.
Local officials in Crawford daily redraw the boundries as to where the protesters can stand. The plan, apparently, involves shrinking the area until someone has to step into an area where they could conceivably harm the president.
Of course, anti-abortion protesters outside the clinic on Comm Ave. in Boston regularly violate the tread where they shouldn’t and the cops couldn’t care less. (One of my guilty pleasures – On rainy days, if they bother to show during the bad weather, the protester huddle under the shelter of the awning, which leads me to ask, “Jesus hung on a cross for three days and you can’t stand to get wet?”)